Chapter Text
Yelena sat cross-legged on the long gray couch.
Crumbs from a berry energy bar were scattered over her white pajamas as she casually watched the open kitchen to her right. Bob, his curly hair clearly messy from just waking up, wore red oven mitts and frowned slightly while pulling a croissant out of the oven.
He carefully set the croissant on a small ceramic plate with tiny flowers, then carried it to the edge of the kitchen island. Opening a drawer, Bob grabbed a plastic fork that didn’t match the plate at all and stabbed it straight into the center of the croissant. Yelena remembered that fork. It came free with the pasta they ordered two days ago. Chewing her energy bar, she kept watching as he cautiously lifted the fork, tilted his head, and got ready to take a bite from the tip. The next second, the croissant plopped back onto the plate.
She watched Bob give up on the plastic fork and pick the croissant up with his right hand instead. As expected, he yelped and tossed it away after burning his fingers. Apparently, she’d laughed out loud without even realizing it. He turned to look at her, the tight line of his lips showing both annoyance and helplessness. The expression reminded her of those trending videos of poodles glaring at people.
“So… you saw all of that?” the giant brown poodle said, standing by the kitchen island.
“I didn’t know Americans eat croissants with a fork,” Yelena said, brushing oat crumbs off her clothes. “You’re lucky it didn’t fall into the sink.”
Bob couldn’t help letting out a snort. He tilted his head and shrugged, like he agreed with that conclusion. Carrying the croissant, he walked over to the couch and sat down near the armrest. The ceramic plate rested on his knees, pressed together, and the elbow of his dark blue hoodie almost touched her knee.
She glanced at the distance between them—well past any sense of personal space—then looked up again at the brown-haired guy, who had finally taken his first bite of bread and seemed completely unaware.
Before being a member of the New Avengers, she had been an assassin. More precisely, a killer trained in the Red Room for many years. Compared to normal people, she was much more careful about personal boundaries. Unless she had to ignore them during a special mission, that sensitive line would usually build an invisible shield around her, keeping away any words or actions that crossed it.
After everything that had happened, honestly, Yelena felt like she had evolved into a pretty friendly assassin. She could greet strangers, chat with mission targets, and lounge on the couch with Ava while scrolling through those stupid memes. When she was in a good mood, she could even bump shoulders with Walker, something Bucky still couldn’t bring himself to do. She was still cautious about physical contact, but come on! Any normal person should stay alert in a chaotic world like this.
Right?
Yelena stared at her knee, which she had already forgotten to pull back for who knows how many times. Then she looked up again at Bob, who had crumbs stuck at the corner of his mouth. She decided this was the moment to ask the question that had been on her mind for almost a month.
“You’re really obsessed with this.”
“What?” The sudden question made Bob lower the croissant in his hand. He blinked a few times, like he was processing the question. “Oh! It’s not that—I mean, it’s just that every weekly ration we get has a lot of…”
“Croissants,” Yelena finished for him. She turned to face Bob and casually shifted a little farther away. “You could tell Mel you want some other bread. Or any other food.”
“Getting meals every day is already great. And honestly, I don’t really have a concept of breakfast. Before all of this…” Bob waved one hand vaguely in the air, puffed out one cheek and let out a small breath, while somehow—very conveniently—closing the distance between them again. “You know…”
Her mind automatically pictured him waking up in the afternoon, hunched over in his tiny studio apartment, searching for anything he could swallow. Bob once told her that most of the time the only things he could find were expired canned food, and some crystals or white powder scattered on the table. That made her think of the attic she had seen in the Shame Room last month——and that crazy twirling chicken, and Mr. Reynolds, whom they’d met only briefly.
After a moment, Yelena reached out and placed her hand on Bob’s knee, gripping it with a bit of firm determination.
“Do you want to go shopping? Maybe grab some food or anything amusing?”
“Y-you mean us?” His gray-blue eyes suddenly lit up, and his shoulders lifted a little. “But if you show up there, wouldn’t it… um… cause a scene? You guys were on the front page of the newspaper yesterday.”
“This is New York, Bob. People probably see me more often than I see my mom.”
“…Mel just told me I can email the work inbox if I need anything.”
“Tell her you need to go out and bask in the real sunshine. ”
They both burst out laughing at how ridiculous that sounded. Bob pretended to go along with it and acted like he was drafting the email. Yelena lowered her head with a smile—and suddenly realized her hand was still sticking on his knee.
The whole personal-boundary issue crept back into a corner of her mind.
“I’m going to change my look first.” She stood up and pulled her right hand away, like it had been glued to Bob’s knee. “See you in ten minutes.”
“Okay.” Sitting on the couch, his gaze quickly moved from her hand up to her eyes. “See you in ten minutes.”
#
From the moment they walked into the automatic doors, Yelena had been watching Bob out of the corner of her eye. His fist was gripping the cart handle tightly. The tip of his gray sneakers had already bumped into the wheel for the sixtieth time. He didn’t seem very interested in the shelves packed with products in front of them. Instead, as he pushed the red shopping cart, his eyes kept darting around at other customers and employees passing by.
“What’s wrong?” She finally stopped in front of a row of toy figures and lightly rested a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been looking around nonstop since we came in.”
“Heh, it’s because…”
He stopped halfway through the sentence. His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed. He rubbed the corner of his eye and then half-covered his mouth. Clearly, the question wasn’t easy to answer. Yelena didn’t feel like pushing him for an answer in front of a whole shelf of tiny Winter Soldier figures.
“If you’re still worried about causing a scene or running into crazy fans—hey, there are probably a hundred Buckys here who could help us handle that.”
Bob followed the direction of her thumb and looked at those familiar poker face on the shelf. He let out a small laugh, then lowered his head a little awkwardly. When he spoke again, his voice sounded slightly deeper, like it was coming from some dark corner inside him.
“I guess… outside a few somewhere in Florida… or maybe on bulletin boards, I’m not sure… there might still be some blurry photos of me out there.”
“I’m still not used to how to ‘do the shopping.’”
He made little quotation marks in the air with his fingers. The strange expression on his face looked both pitiful and kind of cute to Yelena. She thought that before Bob could get used to living with a bunch of assassins and super-soldiers, he probably needed to find the feeling of being a normal human first.
And he could do it.
She would do it with him.
“Trust me, this is easier than listening to Alexei talk about his ‘glorious past,’” Yelena said, grabbing a small figurine off the shelf and dropping it into the cart while Bob looked confused.
“Walker said to get one if you see it.” She naturally took over the cart and gave him a tiny roll of her eyes. “Forgot to tell you—I’m on a mission today. When I said I needed to go out, I suddenly got like half a dozen shopping lists.”
Bob stared at her blankly for a moment, then his gray-blue eyes brightened again.
“Can I help with anything?”
“We need two boxes of cereal, two bottles of vodka with red caps, and a few bags of chips that look good.”
“Okay!” He nodded seriously, then his eyes flickered. “What about you? Is there anything you want to get?”
“Me?” She froze for a second, then fished a few things out of memory. “Macaroni and… green beans?”
As soon as she said it, she saw Bob break into a genuine, goofy smile—just like the stuffed toys behind him.
“Is that dinner tonight?”
“Want to join? I’ll pack in a ton of hot sauce.”
“Sounds really good.”
“Tastes really good too.” She pushed the cart with one hand and grabbed his elbow with the other, steering him forward.
#
Supermarkets were always a magical place.
In the red shopping cart, besides the few “mission” items she had mentioned at the start, everything else was already jam-packed with all kinds of random stuff. Yelena, who had only planned to tag along, completely forgot her original purpose the moment she saw a whole wall of sparkling jewelry and brightly colored eyeliner.
She held up her ten fingers, all covered in rings, in front of a mirror. Bob gave serious feedback—mostly useless—but with the most sincere compliments; he stood by a shelf full of small green potted plants while Yelena leaned on the cart handle, scrolling online for care tips and notes.
After spending a full twenty minutes stressing over the macaroni flavors, they finally decided to grab one of every flavor and toss in some fries from the nearby freezer section too. Next came the fresh produce section. She picked up a family-size bottle of soda and returned to the cart, only to see Bob not far off, cradling a wire fern in one arm while listening to an elderly shopper explain how to pick fresh green beans.
Oh, God—.
At the checkout, they stared at the ever-changing total, both sucking in a quiet gasp at the same time. Yelena’s right hand slid from her forehead down to her nose, then to the card holder in her pocket. Bob glanced nervously toward the exit, as if Mel might swoop in the next second to catch them in the act.
The loot in the cart was split into three shopping bags that were nearly exploding, while Bob still cradled the potted plant in one arm.
They strolled lazily back toward the watchtower, chatting about nearby restaurants and a new burger place, making playful guesses about what the under-renovation store might become. When they passed other pedestrians in the aisles, their arms carrying the bags brushed together, and Yelena immediately felt his always slightly warm body temperature.
She didn’t dislike the feeling. In fact, the moment they separated, she felt a tiny, almost undetectable pang of emptiness. At the same time, her familiar boundary issues waved at her from the edge of her mind. She tried to quicken her pace as a response, but the second Bob spoke, he grabbed all her attention.
“Can we add some mushrooms and chicken to the macaroni?” He slowed down and looked straight at her. His gray-blue eyes, full of clarity and expectation in the afternoon sun, held her gaze. “Would that make it too complicated?”
“…Let’s pan-sear the mushrooms first.” Her thoughts drifted back to Ohio, standing on a stool while Melina had her flip mushrooms in the pan. “Cut the chicken into small pieces and cook it with butter and pepper.” Natasha would smear butter from the spatula onto her cheek; she’d wipe it off with her sleeve, sneaking a taste of the sauce when no one was looking.
“That’s a good idea.” She cleared her throat, pulling herself back to the present. “You’re in charge of those mushrooms today, Bob.”
#
“Hey.”
As soon as they stepped out of the watchtower elevator, someone called to them.
Walker was sitting on the long gray couch, watching a live news stream. He had his New Avengers slippers kicked up on his little stool, messy hair matching the patterned mug in his hand—looking exactly like a laid-back neighbor who just got off work.
Yelena grabbed Bob, who had started to move ahead, bent down, and pulled a small figurine out of one of his shopping bags, tossing it toward the voice calling them.
“You guys went to Target?”
Walker casually caught the box and glanced at it. The tiny Winter Soldier’s serious gaze stared straight at him through the plastic box. He looked at them with a puzzled expression—and got a polite brown-haired gaze and a blonde courteous smile in response. “...Thanks?”
“You owe me fifty.”
“This toy costs fifty?”
“Oh! U.S. Agent is on sale for $24.99 right now.”
Bob jumped in to answer, sounding way too eager, which to Yelena felt like he was trying to shut down the conversation. She laughed at Walker’s weird, slightly helpless expression. He chuckled awkwardly, sipped his coffee, and cleared his throat, trying to start a polite new topic: “Do the bags have tonight’s dinner in them?”
Whoa—that question caught her off guard.
Sure, the bags had enough ingredients, but she hadn’t imagined dinner including Walker—or really anyone besides Bob.
On the way back, she had already planned their tasks: she would mix the sauce, he would cook the mushrooms and green beans, she would clean up, he would wash. She could complain about the stupid stuff from missions during that time, and Bob would share little everyday wonders with her.
Or maybe… Bob didn’t mind having someone else join for dinner?
Maybe he even wanted to chat with Walker—after all, their relationship had grown a lot this month. She could also use the chance to quietly reassess and reinforce the boundary issues that had been slowly fading while she spent time with Bob.
“Yep, dinner is—”
Before she could finish, the rustling of a shopping bag beside her cut her off. Bob shot her a quick glance.
“Alexei just ordered DoorDash.” He paused for a moment, then added before Walker could answer, “He picked chicken stew for everyone.”
Yelena froze, watching Bob greet Walker, then shyly turned toward her with a nervous, seeking-approval smile. She realized she had to bite her lip so hard just to stop herself from letting out a gasp of surprise.
Ding-dong—
It was like her brain finally pieced together an answer to the whole boundary thing. One second to be surprised by the answer, two seconds to think about it, three seconds to accept it—and by the seventh second, she decided she needed to talk to the boundary-breaker tonight.
“See you later, okay?”
After they set the shopping bags on the kitchen island, Bob said with a low, wry voice, “I need to go order Walker’s chicken stew first.”
“No problem, Alexei.” She let out a soft, giggling laugh.
#
“Ta-da!”
Yelena held up the beige milk pot, announcing that dinner was ready. Bob stood at the kitchen island, nodding and bobbing his head while clapping passionately. They grabbed spoons and dug in right there. She snatched the last green bean from the small floral ceramic plate and looked proudly at the defeated, butter-smeared loser across from her. When she turned to pour some soda, Bob snagged the mushroom she’d left in her bowl—and got a tiny retaliatory kick to the shin for it.
After eating and drinking their fill, they lounged at the island, chatting lazily. She complained that Valentina always made them pose like heroes during interviews, and he groaned about Walker insisting on fixing the shield every day—though now he couldn’t even open a can in the fridge. Yelena laughed and said that Alexei had just screwed the lids on too tight.
Resting her cheek in her hand, she looked at Bob’s faint smile. “I’m actually kind of curious about those photos in Florida.”
“Oh—please, no… I was in a terrible state then, a week without sunshine, totally full-on addict.” He pressed his fists against his lips, and his voice sounded a bit funny. “Like… really awful smoky eye makeup.”
“Hey! I like smoky eye makeup.”
“That’s different! Yours looks beautiful.”
“Oh! Thanks.”
“I mean… uh… yeah, it really suits you.” Bob blinked rapidly, his Adam’s apple moving. “…Mine was awful.”
“Okay.” Yelena leaned halfway over the table, grabbed a bag of SNYDER’S pretzels from the bag. “Maybe my old photos were terrible too. After explosions or car crashes, it’s hard to take good pictures.”
Then she started talking about the keys and suitcases she’d grabbed before coming to New York, and about a few years ago in Budapest when she and Natasha stole two cars in one day. “Well… technically one of them was more like a robbery… but it doesn’t matter. Natasha sent the payment afterward anyway.” She liked talking to Bob about Natasha—it let her relive happy memories with her sister and also wonder at how many near-impossible missions Natasha had actually pulled off.
“She sounds perfect.”
“Too bad she’s obsessed with posing like a hero,” Yelena said with a shrug. “Besides that, everything else is perfect.”
“You said she always posed perfectly.”
“She’s Natasha, Bob! Even sitting on the toilet, she’d look amazing.”
She saw him across from her, a small smile playing at his lips, his eyes soft and immersed in amusement. Her heart gave a tiny flutter. She didn’t fully understand what he was thinking yet, but that didn’t stop her from testing whether now was a good moment to ask a question. She roguishly thought, since Bob had already made her feel a little shaken, she wanted to see if she could make him look flustered and adorably unsure.
“Bob,” she said softly.
“Hm?” God, why can he always smile like that?
“Why didn’t you invite Walker to join us?”
The small pebble she tossed disrupted Bob’s calm, steady expression. He slowly straightened his back, eyes widening as they darted around, mouth opening slightly and closing again, hands clenching unconsciously. He stammered, “We only… bought macaroni for two… I—I was worried there wouldn’t be enough.”
“I’m not sure, Bob. There’s still the Mexican chili flavor in the cupboard.”
“That’s the new flavor you picked specially!” He noticed her sly smile and got no response. Finally, he gave up and let out a shaky breath. “And… I didn’t want anyone to disturb dinner tonight.” Like a balloon with a tiny hole, Bob kept speaking quickly, almost in a rush: “I mean, I like being with you—oh—my god, Yelena. I’m really sorry, I know I shouldn’t—”
“Hey, don’t apologize. ” She covered his clenched knuckles with her hand, her voice shaking with quiet delight. “It’s not just that you don’t want dinner disturbed.”
“Oh… uh… what?” Bob lifted his head, clearly surprised by her words. At first, his eyes were full of disbelief. As she tried to raise an eyebrow to hide her own shyness, his expression slowly shifted to pure joy. “But… how… that’s impossible. You’re the best person I’ve ever met, you—”
“Wait, let me just check—” She really wanted to clarify if Bob just enjoyed spending time with her, or if he, like her, liked her in that closer way—the kind of liking that went beyond any boundary, the kind that made him a little unsettled when she was too far away. “Not just as a colleague or a friend, but… something more… right?”
Why did that question sound so weird?
Yelena tugged at her hair in frustration, trying to figure out how to make it simple. Suddenly, the light above her was blocked by a figure leaning close. She froze and held her breath. Under his always-messy brown curls, Bob’s gray-blue eyes were shining brighter than any gold she had ever seen.